Switchstone
by Samjez
Summary: Inspired by "Two Minds Swapped", I put my own spin on the Doctor and Sherlock switching bodies. Thank you all for support!
1. Chapter 1

As John was reading the paper (nothing interesting to keep Sherlock interested for a day or two, rubbish,) an eruption of flames appeared from the corner of his eye. Oh, Sherlock was fiddling with one of his _experiments_ again.

"You know, it would be nice if you didn't burn down the place for once" John glanced up from his paper. "Besides, what are you even working on?"

"Something odd I found on that corpse we examined at that crime scene yesterday" Sherlock held up a gloved hand revealing a small gemstone shimmering all different colors of the rainbow. It was pretty, to say the least.

"…You stole a pretty rock from a corpse."

"Not steal, borrow."

"You can't _borrow _from a dead person, Sherlock"

Sherlock didn't reply. He just went back to his work.

"And why aren't you working on the case?" John was half concerned, half attempting to make small talk.

"Sorry to say, I'm currently stumped."

THIS got Watsons' attention.

"Did I just hear that correctly? You're _stumped? _That's a new one."

"I'm working, shut up."

"Okay, then, why are you wearing gloves to inspect a rock?"

"I said _SHUT UP._ It's because it burned me, okay?" he hastily ripped off his latex glove to reveal a rock-shaped burn imprint. That must of hurt, but Sherlock didn't seem to care.

"How can a rock burn someone?"

"I don't know, how can you constantly blather rhetorical questions?" Sherlock quipped.

Watson sighed, then pulled out his laptop and began typing up a storm. Other then the occasional burst of fire from the cluttered flat kitchen (he _really_ needed to clean the place before Sherlock decides to catch something on fire) it was silent. Pure silence. It was maddening. Sherlock was beginning to rub off on him; and he loathed it.

And that was when the mysterious blue box appeared in their living room out of pure air with a distinguishable _vworp, vworp, vworp._ And a very unorthodox man in tweed stepped out and collapsed on their floor.


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor looked on with an intense stare at his new pet project, the switchstone. It was his fault for all of this, as evident by the singe mark on his hand that shows he picked up the bloody thing. Although he was a lord of it, it was only a matter of time before some innocent human gets dragged into this.

"Why did the Tarklotaz have to choose EARTH out of all of the planets to do his sales?" He thought, very frustrated at this situation. He was more frustrated at himself for deciding to touch the switchstone, before he knew the consequences. Why is nothing-

The TARDIS gave off a warning beep, interrupting the doctor's train of never-ending thought. It found the other stone, which gave the Timelord a small ease at mind. Now all he had to do was waltz in, and take the other half of the stone and lock it away somewhere safe deep inside the TARDIS. Simple as that. Well, it should have been.

As the short trip began to feel longer and longer; his brain was starting to not function properly. It was only when the TARDIS arrived at the destination he realized that someone had found the other half of the switchstone had be activated, which was a monumental problem for him. He couldn't delay it anymore. His sluggish last thoughts as he reached the door of the TARDIS soon became Sherlock's. He opened the door to the beloved blue box, and promptly collapsed on the floor below.

John didn't know what to do. A man just appears out of nowhere and falls unconscious on their floor.

"SHERLOCK?!" he yells.

No response from him in the other room.

Briskly, John dashed over to the strange man to check if he was alright (of course he bloody wasn't, he was unconscious!) when he seemed to just pop up from his collapsed state.

* * *

"Oh goody," John muttered to himself in a half sarcastic muse. He was not ready to deal with some random bloke and explain to him what was-

"John, you don't need to yell, I'm right here," exclaimed the intruder, in a light voice. How did he know his name?

Sherlock awoke with a massive headache… and John yelling at him. Wonderful.

"You don't need to yell, I'm right here." He sneered back. Something wasn't right. It took him a second to figure it out; _his voice…_

He looked down at himself.

Or, what would have been himself.

This certainly wasn't him at _all._

Attempting to overcome his dizziness, he decided to stand up. He was shorter than usual; and he was wearing _tweed. _

And then he felt the double heartbeat.

"This… this isn't normal…" Sherlock's mind raced at fast as it could, and yet he couldn't keep focused on a single thought. He trotted over to the bathroom, to inspect his new self. This whole experience felt like a science fiction novel; although something at the back of his new mind was persuading him that this was completely real. He pushed that thought to the back of his brain, and then came to look at his new face. John, who didn't know what to make of this, followed suit behind the strange man.

"Well, this is different" Sherlock muttered to himself. He was not going to get used to that voice for a while, or as long as he was stuck in this predicament. Long locks of hair parted very peculiar, a huge chin, and eyes that were incredibly _impossibly_ ancient made up his new face. As Sherlock was scanning the mirror, a very familiar face appeared behind him with a huge grin…

"Hello, I'm the Doctor!"

* * *

The first thing the Doctor thought when he had awoken was _vivid._ Everything was so clear and sharp. He sat up from his collapsed state to find himself observing everything he could possibly see with these new eyes. God, he was extremely quick at taking everything in and making observations. Ooh, he got to trade places with an intelligent human. He would almost believe that he wasn't human, but the singular heartbeat said otherwise. He stood up quickly, not knowing the height would almost give him a nosebleed. He was extremely lithe, and pale by the looks of his arms. This was just like regeneration! Oh, he had to find a mirror to see what he has become. His sub-par human hearing picked up a conversation with an acquainted voice… whoever the Doctor swapped bodies with is probably doing the exact same thing. As he reached the point of where he heard the voice, he could see his reflection through the doorway along with his old self and some other bloke, presumably the man's flatmate. Chocolate curls sit atop his head. This was just getting better and better.

His almost colorless eyes widened at his voice. It was so deep and rich, like gravel.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor!"


	3. Chapter 3

As quickly as Sherlock's past self spoke, the duo whipped around. This was getting more and more creepy by the second. What was left of Sherlock's quick thinking brain was beginning to short circuit; and so his instincts took over. With strength he didn't knew he had, he slammed the intruder against the wall. It was odd enough to pin yourself against a wall, let alone watch yourself cower in fear. He never saw his own eyes dilate in fear, and it was an odd expression on the post-face of his. Still, he carried on his rant.

"Who are you, how did you do this, and how do we change back?" Sherlock spat like it was poison. It was strange interrogating someone without his stern voice. John ran off someplace, probably to get his gun that he stashed away in his room…

"I said WHO are you?" He barked this time, unaware of his limits.

The Sherlock imitate wrapped his long fingers around his wrist, feeling his new double pulse. He then gave a genuine smile; it was completely _alien_ that his face could look like that, and it gave him a healthy dose of fear himself.

"I'm the doctor, like I said earlier, and I have a good explanation for this. You just have to let me go."

And at that moment, John burst in, gun in hand.

* * *

"The doppelganger decided to join in the party holding a loaded gun. Isn't that illegal in London?" the Doctor's processers kicked in at that moment; HIS precious Timelord body was about to be shot, and that was NOT okay.

"Oi, that's a really bad idea! I don't need him regenerating! _Please_ put your gun down if you want a good explanation..." He wasn't getting the point across, but his other self did.

"John you idiot, it's me! For Christ's sake, put it down! "

'John' who was still not convinced, was about to speak when he was quite rudely interrupted by the man who inhabited his body.

"John, how else would I know your name? Clothes fresh out of the dryer and the faint smell of cologne indicates you are going on another date tonight; it's the same cologne as last week, meaning you are going on another date with the same girl. Seeing the hair on your sweater from the last date proves she has a cat, probably tabby. This should prove my point and you NEED to put that gun down!"

John slowly put the gun down, unsure of himself at this point.

"…Wow" the Doctor piped up at this point, "I really did inherit the body of a genius… If you want to know how to switch back, I ask you to kindly release your grip"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave out an exasperated sigh as he loosened his grip on HIS hijacked body. This was the only way he was going to get answers, whether he liked it or not. He wanted to be entertained, to not be _bored_ for once. Sometimes you have to be careful for what you for.

"Okay, _Doctor,_ what is going on? I demand answers."

The Doctor revealed the singed part where Sherlock decided to touch the stupid rock. It felt like ages ago. He noted that this body had the same exact mark; although not as prominent.

"Where is the stone?" The doctor said coldly, interrupting Sherlock's thought train.

"In the kitchen…" John entered the conversation, "Sherlock was messing with it, running experiments and trying to figure out what it was."

"It's a switchstone."

"Huh?" The other two piped up.

The Doctor was pasing toward the kitchen area, Intrigued, Sherlock and John followed.

"A switchstone. Basically, these things are manufactured in pairs. The first two sentient beings to touch the stone get mentally swapped into each other's bodies…"

He had looked behind himself to see John and Sherlock (wonderful name, he might add. Like a fairy tale name) completely zoned out. They weren't listening to him at all! This was a serious situation, and they could care less!

"Would you PLEASE LISTEN TO ME? Ugh, bloody humans and their attention spans. Won't you guys understand that I AM TALKING!?

And that was when the normally patient Doctor snapped.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock watched as the doctor walked about the room, having a panic attack. What was this Doctor capable of? He had two hearts, which wasn't exactly human. He made a blue police box appear in their living room out of thin air. It was probably best to not get on his bad side; who knows what he would do. And yet, he wanted nothing more to help.

It was still terrifying to see the man snap.

"Oh, this is _definitely_ not good. " the Doctor muttered. Stressed, he began winding his fingers in his new curly hair.

"Do you want to know why this isn't good?" The Doctor shot a glare at the pair on the couch.

"We are in each other's bodies; I doubt it could get much worse than this…"

"Well, just add another pile of bad to that and that's our predicament. Our personalities are slowly becoming intertwined with each other. Soon I'll be thinking and acting like _you. _And vice versa."

John picked up at this point. "So, how do we switch you two back before we have an insane Doctor and a Sherlock that decides to appear from a blue box?"

"Good news is that the switchstones can refuel on energy inside my TAR- er, my blue box," The Doctor held up the stones; once filled with color were now dull and just like normal rocks.

"And the bad news?"

"The bad news is it's going to take a while for them to actually refuel…"

"How long..?" the voice sounded almost natural.

"…A week.." The Doctor eventually squeaked out.

* * *

Sherlock and John seemed surprised by the answer given, but that was to be expected. A full week as someone else, topped with the fact that their personalities are slowly transforming would be enough to make anyone insane.

"So, where did you find the switchstone?"

"I borrowed it off of this corpse we found at a crime scene.." Sherlock replied.

"Don't be silly, you can't borrow something from a dead person,"

John tried to hold back giggles, and was failing miserably.

Just then, the inner pocket of the Doctor's sleek black coat started to ring. _A phone call!_

"It's probably the yard.." Sherlock didn't seem too pleased by this. "Probably some menial task they want me to do. Could you put it on speaker, please?"

The Doctor pulled out a newer smartphone from his pocket. The name read 'Sally Donovan'.

Hesitant as ever, he answered it. He had to act the part of an intelligent sociopath.

"…What do you need, Donovan." he sneered.

"Oh, hello, freak." she replied. "You know that body you looked at the other day?"

"Get to the point, Sally."

"I have a feeling you are going to like this case. Apparently, it has magically walked off."

"Don't be stupid; a body can't just _walk away_"

"Well, we can't find it anywhere. The morgue was completely locked when it happened, nobody could get in or out; but we have someone in holding that might be able to tell us a thing or two. Can you come down and interrogate him?"

Before thinking, the Doctor gave a reply.

"I'll be there in ten."


	5. Chapter 5

"…You said yes. To an interrogation. I'm supposed to do that!"

Sherlock watched as the doctor sprinted around the flat, looking for his overcoat. He had taken that phone call a bit too easily. Sherlock Homes was in fact, worrying. Maybe the Doctor was right; their personalities were changing.

"At least take John with you,"

"I work better alone." came a reply from the Doctor. "Besides, I need you to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid with my body."

"Just remember, don't make me look like an idiot."

The Doctor gave a sincere smile.

"Oh, and don't smile. It looks too weird on my face."

"Well someone is a grump. Don't do anything stupid without me!"

And with that, The Doctor dashed outside to the waiting cab.

* * *

The cab ride was uneventful. The Doctor had more important things to worry about, such as how he was going to pull this off. Sherlock seemed like a sadistic madman bent on fixing his boredom with a lust for crime. He shuddered to imagine what an angry Sherlock might do.

"Freak alert!" Sally exclaimed as the Doctor entered the building. He glanced around to see some office workers, presumably working on a case or two. His eyes met those of some _very _peeved detectives; it made him wonder what Sherlock had done wrong to make them passive aggressive. The Doctor was starting to see why he was getting so many angry glances. He could deduce their life stories in a matter of moments, and that probably made him a bit annoying. No, that made him _really_ annoying. It was beginning to get hard to shut his brain off, figuratively. If this is how the rest of the week was going to go, this was not going-

"OI, Sherlock! We're here! You get lost in that big ego of yours or something?"

The Doctor snapped out of his ramblings. At least he still had those.

* * *

Making a warm cuppa tea, John decided to settle down and begin reading a book. He really wanted to get his mind off of the body swap and focus on something more… productive. And besides, Sherlock could take care of himself, couldn't he?

"GERINIMO!" screeched a voice from the other room.

Maybe he couldn't handle himself.

Sherlock dashed out of the room, strange little device in hand, creating an outburst of energy in the tiny flat. It was completely against his personality, and yet, he looked as if he was having the best day of his life.

"Are you sure you are Sherlock? This is completely unlike you…"  
"Of course I'm Sherlock! How else would I know that you keep the nicotine patches hidden away behind the clock in your room?"

_Damnit, _John was going to have to change where he hid them again.

"What exactly is that little thing you have in your hand?"

"I… I don't know…" He waved it around like a magic wand. John assumed that's probably what it was.

"I found it in his pocket.." Sherlock said, trailing off.

Sherlock nonchalantly pressed a button to hear a (usually inaudible) click at the front door.

"Oh, I know what it does!" he exclaimed, with a gleam in his normally cold eyes. "It's a universal door unlocker thingy!"

"..I'm pretty sure 'unlocker thingy' isn't a word,"  
"Shut up, I'm learning."

John rolled his eyes, and then glanced back to his book. His life was never going to be orthodox, was it?

"…So, do you think this universal door opener will unlock that blue police box that's parked in the living room?"

* * *

For once, Sherlock was entertained. This was normally an extremely hard thing to do, but this certainly wasn't a normal day.

They stood side by side staring at the humming police box. _Something_ was inside, and to Sherlock it was beginning to burn his brain just wondering what was in the box. It was almost as if there were _voices _calling to him, telling him to just open the box.

"No," His brain fought back, "That's silly, a box can't talk," but a hint of madness was beginning to push through. He ignored it.

He raised the universal unlocker thingy (he really needed a name for it) up into the air and nervously pressed the button. It started to emit a green light, along with a pleasant buzzing noise.

Nothing happened.

"Well," John piped up, "It's best I get back to that tea…"

"Of course, this thing unlocks every door I could get in a mile radius around it like _that_ and it can't open a stupid police telephone box from the 60's" Sherlock snapped his fingers, attempting to give emphasis on his statement.

As if on cue, the doors of the ancient box swung open.


	6. Chapter 6-M and Two Freaks

**An: A month of Exams, Procrastination, and a broken keyboard later, I managed to write more. Sorry for the delay!**

* * *

The Doctor stared into the eyes of a man who seemed to not be completely there. He almost looked amnesic. Still, he carried on with his interrogation.

"Who are you, what were you doing in a _locked_ morgue, and how did you get in?"

The man, who seemed properly confused, gave a delayed reply.

"I don't know who I am yet! That's the best part of this process! I mean, one minute I'm buying a fancy rock from an alien who was _clearly_ fake, and the next I'm this! I mean, it's all so new and…"

The Timelord (could he even say he was one now?) left him to his obvious delusions when he noticed something very eerie.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap._

The stranger's fingers danced in a beat all too familiar.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap._

He stiffened in place; a side effect of pure fear running through his veins.

"Just… who did you say you are again?" the Doctor managed to choke out.

"Oh, yeah, my old alias won't work here…" He muttered to himself. "I just guess I'll make up another one right now!"

He blinked off into space before he created his 'name'.

"My name… My name is now Moriarty!"

"You are obviously suffering from memory loss. I can't Interrogate someone who can't even remember their own bloody name! I'm calling an ambulance to—"

"NoNOnono, that's a really bad idea! You have NO idea what can of worms that would open up!" 'Moriarty' snapped out of his trance and quickly retreated to the back of the room. His breathing quickly shallowed pace. The Exhales began to show… _gold regeneration dust?_ This was the final nail in the coffin for the apprehensive detective. It was _him_.

"You honestly have NO idea what I'm going through" Moriarty broke the silence.

"Oh, I know exactly what you are going through. Big changes and all of that. You must be nervous about turning over a new leaf, huh."

"Yeah… Changes! You _are _intelligent! Gold star for you! All of this was an honest mistake, really. I'm sorry for getting locked in by accident; I came to see an old friend and didn't know…"

"I'm sorry myself for the confusion, I assumed you were a criminal mastermind, ha ha." Both men were lying out of their teeth, and they both knew it too. "Cmon, I'll lead you out of here." The Doctor put his long arm around his shoulder, like old friends. He could feel the familiar double pulse of his longtime enemy; an insult to injury to his current predicament. Christ, when this was over he would treat himself to a nice vacation on a distant planet somewhere.

"So, you never told me your name. What is it perhaps?"

The Doctor replied; his answer rolled off this new tongue of his.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

**How was this possible?**

The shorter of the two peered into the box they had just mistakenly opened to find a most fantastical sight. _It was bigger on the inside!_

"How can a small little box contain a room that's bigger then our entire bloody flat?"

"…It's not a box, john. It's called the TARDIS."

John glanced over to see his tweed-clothed friend lying on the ground in a fetal position. The last thing they needed right now was for Sherlock to go into mental breakdown mode, and it seemed he had exactly just done that.

"How would you know what it's called?"

"The TARDIS told me that."

"…I'm going inside, and you can sit out here if you want to."

Sherlock quickly stood up, suddenly worried.

"Well, don't do _that…_"

A curious face crept upon John. This was the most whimsical thing that could have happened to them, and now he's being denied like a child who can't have desserts?

"The TARDIS doesn't like you yet. I will go in and inspect and if I need you I will call to you. Understand?"

"Fine.."

* * *

Sherlock's new clumsy body slowly made his way slowly into the strange world known as the TARDIS. As soon as he had opened the doors to the contraption, the voices grew louder and enveloped him in warmth and a sense of _home_. He felt loved and belonging and a sense of bliss.

_He enjoyed it._

He wasn't going to tell John that.

He walked around the main console gracefully, as if he had done it thousands of times before.

"_This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen…"_

"Stop it." His inner voice commanded, "This is the personality of the Doctor, not me."

"Uh, are you okay?"

A concerned voice came from outside the TARDIS, snapping the detective out of his internal drift.

"Yeah… You can come in now, if you want. I'm sure it would be fine with her."

Sherlock took a step back, ready to enjoy the steampunk themed spacecraft in her entirety.

This step back made him run into the upper balcony railing, sending his lanky body reeling toward the lower floor.


	7. Chapter 7

"…Sherlock?"

"Christ. John, I think I may have broken something."

"You THINK?" At this point, John was staring at his fallen friend from the upper balcony. He was just lying there, helpless like an overturned turtle. His wrist seemed to twist out at an odd angle, normally making anybody cringe.

John Watson, on the other hand, wasn't very normal.

As he watched Sherlock fall, Watson's 'Doctor' urge that he had honed in over the years took over his actions. Within minutes he had produced an arm brace and other medical supplies and was tending to his broken friend.

"John, this body is a clutz."

"I know. Why are you acting so calm? Are you in pain or anything?"

"I broke my wrist. Obviously I'm in pain. Why _am_ I so calm? We aren't going to be able to go to the hospital. This body had two hearts, and I hate being a lab rat."

"How would you know you hate being a lab rat? You've never been tested on before."

"… I have a feeling.."

"Did you give him aspirin?" A tall dark man stepped into the TARDIS, his tone slightly concerned. Oh joy. Busted.

"He broke his wrist, possibly giving himself a concussion, and you care if he took _aspirin?"_

"I don't have a concussion, I just hurt."

"Shut up, I'm arguing with the Doctor."

"I'm worried because he's allergic to it. May I kindly ask you to step away from him?"  
"I'm tending to my patient, like a _Doctor _does. Don't you care about your own body?!"

"Guys, what's going on with my arm?"

"Yes I do. And as I said, STEP AWAY! I don't need to hurt another bloody stupid human for once."

* * *

This baritone voice of the doctor's could command armies throughout war if he wanted to. It was deep and gave him power beyond his normal voice. It was a voice that screamed discipline. John obediently stepped away from his patient, grumbling to himself. A bright golden light shot out of the timelord's arm, filling the TARDIS with an aura of warmth. When it was all said and done, Sherlock's arm was completely healed.

"Finally, a face that people will listen to!" Even if it was only temporary, the Doctor was beginning to enjoy this.

* * *

"You…. You're a freak."

Sherlock was staring at the new hand, seemingly complety fine. He flexed the fingers, making sure everything was intact.

"_Interesting" _ Sherlock thought, _"_ _I could do experiments on this later…" _The TARDIS said to him that this was called regeneration, a process where cells are completely changed.

"Apparently, the people at the Yard think you're a freak too. I'm starting to see why, too."

"…Two freaks stick together?"

"…Sure. I need a place to stay until this is done anyway. Two freaks stick together."

And with that, Sherlock stood up and made his way to the kitchen in the flat to make some tea. He was awfully hungry after that. Nothing a few sweets can't fix.


	8. Chapter 8-Ground rules

"Okay, if we are going to live as one another for the time being, we better set down some ground rules."

The Trio sat around the dining room table, listening to the Doctor and his speech that seemed all too practiced. He pointed to the TARDIS, which was now moved to the corner of the cluttered flat.

"You do NOT try to fly her. Period. Don't even touch the console or think about it."

The Doctor had been alone since he could no longer speak to the TARDIS or even attempt to. One of the more important things that were passed on to the man across from him was the symbiotic bond with her, leaving his humany-wumany brain to wallow in its own loneliness. Sherlock seemed to be doing okay with the new psychic bond, at least that's what he thought. Right now Sherlock was subconsciously eating a bowl full of Jelly Babies… quite fast, he would add.

"You know, I understand you just went through a partial regeneration, but you are hitting the sweets a _little_ hard…"

The bow-tied Sherlock looked down upon the depleting bowl of sweets and shot a quick glance of mortification, then quietly pushed away the bowl as if nothing happened.

"Carrying on, don't do anything stupid to my body. It's been less than a day and you have already seemed to make my body waste some of its regeneration energy…" the Doctor huffed, "Oh! Don't look up anything in the index files of the TARDIS. It's for your own safety and sanity."

The limber man looked down to see that the rest of the Jelly Babies were gone, except for one. He picked up the small candy to inspect. Bright yellow, coated with sugar, big—since when did he have to inspect his candy now?! He quickly popped it in his mouth, expecting a glorious taste that could only be matched with a distant planet's confectionaries. He was sadly, very wrong. The Bright eyed Detective quickly spit out the once-was treat, getting an atrocious taste in his mouth. Perhaps a bad batch? No, it looked perfectly fine. Sherlock ate most of them. This only left….

Oh _god _no.

This body hated _sugar_ too?!

Sherlock's light tone only confirmed his suspicions.

"You know, I don't really like sugar. You are probably going to go without. Sorries!"

The Doctor cringed at that statement. He didn't even… like sugar? This was just getting more and more miserable. Another problem was quickly arising. Someone was bored, and for once, it wasn't Sherlock. In millennia of his lifetime, he was never bored. He had the TARDIS and constant adventure and companions; His world was new, yes, but it was also _boring_.

He hated to admit it, but boredom was a new thing to the Doctor. And it was slowly growing on him.

* * *

**Later, that night…**

Sherlock dashed around the hallways of the TARDIS, taking everything in. How long was he running for? Apparently, his brain processed the answer without even wanting to. Eleven minutes 52 seconds. His timey senses were extremely accurate. He wasn't even trying. So _many rooms!_ Distractions also came easier. He should probably experiment on that.

"Oooh, a pool!"

His old stretched out body was passed out in a hammock in the console area; John was out at a pub somewhere. He had hated how he needed sleep. He wanted to work 24/7 on cases and experiments before. Sleep was incredibly dull and human. He liked different. And now, he was stuck as someone who was vastly different. Incredible healing powers, two hearts, the ability to just forego sleep?

"_Too bad this would be over in a week or so," _Sherlock mused to himself.


	9. Chapter 9-nicotine

**A/n I really need to invest some more time and make these longer.**

* * *

The Doctor awoke with a deep grogginess that could only be matched with a strange irk for something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. God, he hasn't been this sleepy since he was human….

Oh. He was still stuck in Sherlock's extremely limber body. Humans needed way too much sleep, it seemed. He was wondering how Sherlock had faired during the night.

And then the cravings hit him like a train.

The only things he had craved before were a good adventure and assorted food items, such as classic fish fingers and custard. But this craving was different and new. It was like his entire body would just shut down if he didn't get whatever he needed right this second. He vaguely remembers that some of his past companions needed coffee to function in the mornings. Perhaps that's what he needed. Coffee.

He lazily rolled out of his hammock aboard the TARDIS to fall on the metal ground with a thud. He could really care less about anything else at the moment, as his mind was preoccupied with fixing this human covet.

He stumbled out of the TARDIS into the kitchen of the minuscule flat, only to be greeted by a yawning Watson and a _very_ famished Holmes. Now, where was the coffee pot…?

"I hope you know you have the metabolism rate of a teenage boy who's been starved for three days."

"…Thanks…" was all the Doctor could manage to mutter.

"You are twitching…" Sherlock observed, "That body hasn't had any nicotine in the past three days. The Patches are in John's sock drawer. He moved them since yesterday."

John shot him a dirty look.

"You… You are addicted to nicotine?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Helps me think."

He swiftly made his way to the dresser where indeed, he had found the miracle patches. Hopefully this would do something.

* * *

He pitied the Doctor.

Sure, he was in the same situation the day before yesterday, but he was completely free of his cravings now. A giant burden that consisted of nicotine and cigarettes had just been lifted from him. He almost felt horrible that the Doctor's stunning brain was now degrading into something less pleasant and darker. The nicotine was just a blunt example of this transformation that was turning two freaks into two other freaks.

He didn't pity the Doctor, he pitied his old body.

* * *

…_Relief_.

Relief came in the form of small little patches on the Doctor's pale arm.

His newfound cravings subdued, he triumphantly made his way back to the dining table to find John had disappeared from sight and the time-lord body texting away with the Doctor's tweed jacket hanging off of him. How long has it been? Ten minutes? Twenty? He hated the fact he could no longer properly tell time without peering at a clock.

…Stupid psychic limitations.

"Where'd John go?"

"He has a job, you know."

"And where are you going with my body?"

"…Out. I promise I won't do anything stupid. Besides, I need some air. I don't really _do_ domestic life. Laterz!"

That last line sounded oddly familiar; the Doctor just noted it off as déjà vu.

"Wait! What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, do some chores or something! This place is always really cluttered. Have fun!"

And with that, his new friend made his way out into the world.


	10. Chapter 10-Willpower

…He needed to go outside.

There was nothing to do inside the flat, it seemed. He could clean the place up, but he didn't feel like it. He was simply too lazy to do so. He needed air. He had gone what, Two hours without doing anything productive? It was noon now. He still wasn't hungry.

So the Doctor put on Sherlock's sleek black coat and opened the door, braving the world. It turns out he couldn't brave the world for very long.

A quick opening of the front door revealed a scene that he could _already_ figure out too many details.

It was simple, really. Just a lady walking her dog throughout London. But it was so much more than that.

"_Woman, about in her mid 20's. Left handed, considering she's holding the leash in her left. Larger dog, a German Sheppard, so it's obvious she doesn't live in a flat and instead a much nicer house. Brand name apparel, Matching clothes, so a sense of self esteem. She's wearing one of those cheap useless power bracelets on her right wrist, so she falls for scheme's easily. Probably one of those who fall for astronomical signs and believed in Santa until a very late age. Hahaha."_

The Doctor slammed the door before he could make any more deductions. He felt as if a piece of himself had just been stripped away, revealing the inner intricate parts of Sherlock's soul. His Time-lordy soul was slowly dying, being replaced with _this._

The Doctor gave off a sigh, and then slowly creaked the door back open. Perhaps, he could still control it. Perhaps, with enough willpower, the deductions wouldn't subconsciously happen. He glanced outside to see a bicyclist cruising past.

"_Old, rusted, but still taken care of based on the fact that it looks cared for. Not the richest family around, but he does take good care of his belongings…"_

"Oh, screw it. How much of a bother could this be anyway? It's not like I'm going to die."

The Doctor slowly made his way out into the bustling world, greeted by the many sights and sounds of London.

* * *

As an alien, Sherlock had never felt more human.

His face that everyone could recognize from the papers was gone. He was no longer a byproduct of hiding away in his flat, toiling away with his experiments that ended up nowhere. People didn't recognize him; he blended into the background like a cog of society, like a chameleon.

As much as a braces and tweed wearing Timelord could blend in to the background.

Another thing that was peculiar was that he felt _cheerful_ _._ Sherlock always felt annoyed by others who were upbeat 'just because'. But now, even the smallest things could make him crack a smile, which seemed to match perfectly with his impossible eyes and floppy always-in-the-way hair.

The world felt colourful and upbeat and in _harmony._ Everything felt perfect. He could care less that he had lost his deduction powers. They were a blessing, but it was a curse. For everything he lost, it seemed he had gained something better.

Sherlock started to admit defeat to his faded willpower; the body was starting to take over.

He was okay with this.

And so, Sherlock started to think up a devious plan. It seemed this mind was excellent at creating plans on the fly.


	11. Chapter 11

When the Doctor made his way back to the residence of 221b, he certainly wasn't expecting anything to happen. He was sick of the surprises and bored of doing nothing. So when a somewhat familiar voice greets him inside, his first reaction was wondering why there was a strange man in the house.

It was too dark to see anything. All the lights were turned off, creating a deep pitch black. The only thing he could see was the TARDIS glowing in the corner. What had used to be home seemed foreign and out of place.

"I knew it was you." Came an Irish voice from one of the chairs. "You were different from all the rest."

The Doctor fumbled around looking for the light switch. When he finally found it, Light flooded the room. His bright blue eyes met those eyes of _his._

It was the man at the morgue, the one he interrogated.

It was Moriarty .

It was the Master.

"…_Doctor"_

"_.._Call me Sherlock"

"Well, if you are _Sherlock, _Then I'm Moriarty . How was the regeneration? It looks like you got a decent body. Not wearing anything stupid."

"How do you even know it's me?"

"Oh, please. There's a bloody TARDIS in here. Your TARDIS. Are you that dumb? I have no idea why you are hiding out in a flat in London, though. I thought you didn't like domestic life. "

Without notice, the Master lunged for his wrist.

"OOH! A singular heartbeat! Someone wasn't careful and is on their measly last life. Good. Makes it easier to kill you."

"Oh, Koschei, why would you ever do that?" the Doctor sneered.

The Master shot him a glare for that one. "This body, when it first regenerated, it didn't want to take over the world, or the universe, or whatever. It just wants to kill you. And I'm going to do that. For _everything_ you have done to me. Just not now. I need a plan. And I also need to find you. And I just did that. I assume you have both halves of the switchstone?"

"You aren't getting a hold of them, if that's what you want to know. You were already going to mess something up."

"You know, I first wanted the stone because I knew you had the other half" Moriarty admitted, "I would have switched with you, to get rid of the drums. They even followed me to this body. You know they won't stop. But you only have one regeneration left. It's better that I stay in this body. "

The Master slowly made his way to the window. He was going to jump. The Doctor would have cared several days ago. He ran out of care.

"Oh, and tell your little friend Jack that he makes a poor excuse of an alien!"

The Doctor could hear footsteps outside, coming up the stairs. He didn't even have to turn around.

"_Pace and sound of the footsteps tells me it's John."_

The door squeaked open, revealing the confrontation to the army doctor.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Oh, this must be your little pet!" the Master piped up, half hanging out of the window. "That's odd, He usually goes for girls. Anyway, bye!"

And with his speech over, the Master jumped from the window.

"Care to tell me who that was?" John eventually piped up.

"Old friend of mine, nothing to worry about."

"How did he get in our flat then?"  
"I don't know, same way he left I guess, the window."

"…You attract weirdos."

"…We should make something to eat."

* * *

An enticing smell surrounded Sherlock as he came home to refuel for the night. John and the Doctor were eating, and for once, it wasn't take-out. John couldn't cook very well, neither could himself. He couldn't fathom the last time he had _good_ homemade food.

"Hey, just in time! Your food's ready!" The two exclaimed in unison. He walked over to see his little place at the table neatly set up with… _fish fingers?_ A little bowl filled with custard sat next to it.

"What an odd combination…"

"Try it, you'll love it! I would eat it myself if I wasn't in this body."

The Doctor leaned in anticipation as Sherlock went to take a bite of the savory treat.

"Wow. It's… It's actually good."

The tall man grinned, something he had done less and less over the past few days.

"You know, with the guest in the house, we should whip out the cluedo board and—"

"Oh no, I am NOT playing Cluedo with you two,_ he_ is bad enough!" John pointed a finger at Sherlock, and he responded with a shrug, "If you two are going to kill each other over a silly game I will be in my room. Enjoy fighting, I guess. Don't break anything."

"Night, John."

"Actually, I'm going to sleep as well. I had a rough day." The post-Timelord stretched out his body, easily hitting the ceiling with his arms.

"What am I going to do?"

"I don't know, I'm too tired to care."

"Night, then"

"Goodnight, Holmes."

He sauntered away into his room to retire for the night; a quick change later and he drowsily closing his eyes.

In his last waking moments for the day he realized that he wasn't in _his _room, it was Sherlock's.

* * *

He pressed a button.

The feeling felt natural.

So he pressed a different button.

A jolt of adrenaline ran through him.

Sherlock strolled around the console, pressing random buttons and pulling levers he really shouldn't pull. His plan was all set, he didn't to go back for food or sleep or work. He had no idea where he was going; hopefully the TARDIS would pick somewhere nice. He left a note behind, explaining his almost sporadic actions. Hopefully that would persuade them. With one last pull of the lever, the TARDIS began creating the signature _vworp vworp vworp._

He was no longer Sherlock.

He was now the Doctor.

And that was when a very unorthodox man in tweed left 221b Baker Street.


	12. Chapter 12-TARDIS to find

The Doctor quickly awoke with the sun in his eyes; a sign that he had overslept. He stood up from the neat bed and stumbled out into the main living area of the flat. John was quietly munching on breakfast. Everything seemed to be in order, the TARDIS was gone, and everything seemed to be clean for once, it sure—

Wait a second, the TARDIS was _gone?!_

"It's…It's gone?"

"Welcome back…" John didn't even look up from his paper, "He left a note saying that the stones had refueled early, so you two switched back last night. He left to go to his home planet. Gallifrey, or something like that. Want to read it?"

The Doctor snatched the piece of paper from John's hand, and then began to read.

**Sherlock and John-**

**The Switchstone refueled faster than I had initially thought. Me and Sherly swapped back to our original bodies last night. I hope I didn't waste too much of your time. I'm off to my home planet, Gallifrey. I'll probably pop in for a quick visit from time to time, so I'll see you again soon. **

**-The Doctor**

"So, I got you scheduled for a couple of interviews for new cases." John continued, "First one is in about an hour, so you might want to clean up, but knowing you, you wouldn't clean up your life depende—"

"John."

"Hm?"

"I'm not Sherlock."

"But the note said…"

"He lied. And now he's starting to regain some of my memories, which is not exactly the best thing to ever happen."

The two sat for a minute, letting that soak in, before John shattered the silence.

"…Are you sure you aren't Sherlock? I mean, you are acting a lot like him, There could be a possibility that something happened, and-"

"Of course I'm Sherlock! Er, of course I'm the Doctor! I knew he wasn't doing too well…"

"To be fair, you aren't doing too well either. I mean, it was getting harder and harder to tell you apart from Sherlock from before this happened. ."

"… I need to get my blue box back, _before _something happens. Before he fully accepts my body as his. Before he decides to just break the stones, trapping us permanently. This is getting serious, John. I need to make a phone call."

"Wait, discard the stones? Couldn't you just get another pair?"

"They were manufactured in a futuristic weapons factory that blew up; I doubt I can get another pair." His long fingers began punching in a number feverishly into Sherlock's cell. In less than a minute, a man's voice picked up the phone.

...

"...Doctor?"

"Jack! I need you to do me a favor, and I need it kind of fast."

"You've regenerated again," Jack commented, "How do I know it's really you?"

The post-Timelord groaned. "The password is Hyper Vodka."

"OKAY, now we are talking business! What do you need?"

"Someone stole the TARDIS. They couldn't have gone far since they can't fly her, but I need to find it. Could you fly us around London for a while? Also, I need you to bring your 'Doctor detector'."

The other line went dead for a second, then Jack finally responded.  
"…Are you bringing friends?"

The Doctor sighed. "Yes Jack, I'm bringing friends. I'm at 221b Baker Street."

You could practically see the captain grin on the other side of the phone. "Great! See you in 5!"

"I need you to pack a backpack quickly. You have five minutes. Bring only the necessities. It's a good thing he left this here." He picked up the sonic screwdriver, attempting to twirl it around in his fingers.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"We are going to see my old friend, the great Captain Jack Harkness! Now, hurry up and pack, we have a TARDIS to find. Besides, we still have time before he goes completely Doctor on us, at least I hypothesize. "

"Oh, yeah? How so?

"His handwriting didn't completely look like mine yet. It's possible he's still in there somewhere. We just have to hurry."

"You are starting to remind me of Sherlock more…"

"Please don't say that. I'm trying to delay the inevitable."


	13. Chapter 13

**Almost the end guys... Thanks for supporting :D**

* * *

"Taxi!"

"Not necessary John. Watch this."

Out of seemingly nowhere, a giant spaceship appeared from the blue. John had seen a blue box appear from nowhere, two men change personalities over the past four days, hell, and he watched Sherlock _eat something_ for once in his life. This entire experience was almost whimsical in many ways he couldn't describe or attempt to. And the Doctor shrugged it off like an ordinary, everyday occurrence.

A smiling man sat in the cockpit of the ship. His every action seemed spontaneous and… flirty? John couldn't tell.

"Welcome aboard the Chula IV! We've got a TARDIS to locate! It's been a long time, Doctor. How are things?"

"Could be better." The Doctor solemnly said as he stepped into the spacecraft. John had done a lot of crazy things over the week. Why not step into a strange ship that can turn invisible?

"Well, hello, short stuff." The man said as John stepped into the ship.

"Don't even try Jack, he isn't gay."

Jack sulked as soon as he heard that.

"Do you have any idea where we are going?"

"I got a disruption west from here on the radar," Jack explained, "I'm going to check there first."

"Good I knew he couldn't fly very far. You bring the detector?"

"Yup! Just check under the seat!"

The Doctor pulled out a strange contraption; It was a glass jar holding a bubbling liquid and… _a severed hand? _ The strange man stared intently at it.

"Wow, you really are turning into Sherlock…"

"What? Oh. Not like _that._ This is Jack's homemade 'Doctor Detector'. I had my hand severed off a while back and apparently that makes a neat little machine that can find me, well, him."

"You know, if scientists ever got a hold of your body, I'm pretty sure we wouldn't need doctors anymore."

"Which is why that will never happen. Speaking of Doctor's, this ship was originally a war ambulance for an alien race. Would have helped you with Afghanistan, eh?"

Watson chuckled, and then came to a realization. "Neither me or Sherlock never told you about Afghanistan. How did you figure that out?"

"I...I don't know. It could have either been deductions…. or memories beginning to resurface. In the case of the latter, we should hurry."

* * *

"Hey guys, I think we found it!"

John and the tall detective peered out the window to find the TARDIS in the middle of the field.

"Thank you for flying Jack Harkness air, this was your Captain speaking!"

As the duo disembarked with the detector in hand, Jack began to speak.

"You know I—"

"Don't try."

"..Fine, you party pooper."

The ship took off, soon cloaking itself again and disappearing into the daylight.

"Like I said, you attract weird people. That was nice of him to drop us off though."

"Oh, Jack? He does that with everyone. Aliens too. He's a bit of a flirt, but he's nice when you get past that."

"…He locked it."

John began snapping his fingers in front of the TARDIS doors; the doors stayed shut tight.

"…_idiot…_" the Doctor muttered under his breath, although he couldn't care any less if John heard.

"That only works for _him._ Good thing I stole the key from his jacket earlier."

The Doctor pulled out a shiny key from his inner pocket. Sure enough, the doors of the magical box opened up to the world.

"No Sherlock to be seen. Hmm"

"He knows we're here. The TARDIS notified him as soon as we got in proximity. He has the home advantage in this case."

"And do we have an advantage?"

"We have both stones still, which is a good sign" he replied, motioning to the Switchstones lying on the console

"They aren't even charged yet though, and it's not like you two can go for very much longer as one another."

"Yes, but I have a plan. 1 drop of fuel from the eye of harmony should refuel them instantly; we just have to get to the center of the TARDIS."

"Why didn't you do that earlier?"

"There's a chance they might explode… I thought we could wait out the refuel time. My predictions were wrong. Put some gloves on and bring them along."

"Yes, almighty master…" John grumbled.

The Doctor seemed to like power and obedience from others. The Sherlock impulses were getting worse. They had to start moving.

"Follow along closely, and _don't_ split up. These corridors are finite, but it certainly doesn't feel like it."

They walked and they walked. Left, right, right, right, left, and many other directions led them nowhere. With the Detector in one hand, Sonic in the other, the Doctor marched on, looking for the center of the TARDIS.

"Weren't we just here?" John questioned, "We just passed this door like five minutes ago." John pointed to a white door with a singular rose on it.

"Oh, that's just _lovely._ I think he realized that the corridors can move around to his will."

"Well, It's going to be impossible to find him now…" John huffed, "Or get out of here. Got any tricks up your sleeve?"

The Doctor gave a sly smile "Just a few."

"Honey? I know you can hear me. Listen, please. That man in the TARDIS somewhere, it isn't me. It is not the Doctor. I know you think otherwise. I know you have a symbiotic connection with him and not me, but _please_ hear me out. I'm trying to make it so you can get back to your precious Doctor, and if you don't help me by leading us to the eye of harmony I can't do that. Please, Sexy, for me? So you can talk to him again?

A minute of silence passed.

John would have concluded that the Doctor was from the loony bin at this point, but what he's supposedly seen he would make that same diagnosis to himself.

Their entire world began to spin, and before long, the doors to the center of the TARDIS showed themselves.


	14. Chapter 14-Blood Red Herring

"Steady….."

A single drip of fluid from the Eye of Harmony splashed onto the grey stones, which caused a sudden flash of light to engulf the room in warmth and color.

"…Hey! They didn't explode! Small victory!"

"Now to find Sherlock… You think she can lead us to him?"

"I doubt it, as she is still protecting her thief. I don't think she will switch around the corridors anymore though, so that's a plus. That's why I brought this!" He pointed to the hand in a jar that still seemed to creep John out.

They passed by several doors and rooms without a single bleep from the device. After an hour of frustrating results, a small _bleep bleep bleep_ radiated from the device. A lead! They followed the radar like hounds following a sent until it picked up in frequency and lead to... a broom closet? This couldn't be right, but the machine wasn't that faulty. The Doctor slowly quickly opened up the door; out of patience they find something they really shouldn't have.

"Oh god… Is that his blood?"

On the door of the small closet, a mirror was attached. In the corner was a little smiley face much like the one decorating the wall of the flat. This one, however, was made out of blood. Something moved in the background of the mirror; John turned to see if anything had run past them. Nothing did.

"It's a red herring meant to trick the device." The Doctor stated, matter-of-factly.

"He cut himself to distract us?"

"Sherlock figures he heals fast. It's still wet. C'mon, we must be getting closer to him."

"We've really lost him now, haven't we?"

"I don't want to answer that question."

* * *

Several more twists and turns of the labyrinth, and they pass the music room.

Normally, like most other times, it would have been nothing to the Doctor.

Today wasn't a normal day.

Like a moth to a deadly kindle, the Doctor soon found himself strolling throughout all the instruments. Depending on his regeneration and companions, he would spend hours in this room, fiddling with instruments both human and alien. A certain instrument caught his eye, making him zone out on the task at hand and all of his surroundings

A perfect Stradivarius violin with bow was held in the long hands, and before he knew what he was doing, a beautiful melodious tune began to flow from the instrument. His fingers were exact and precise in every movement and all of his troubles seemed to dissolve into dust. For a few minutes, It was perfect.

"…Doctor?"

He continued playing, not knowing he was being called back to reality.

"DOCTOR!"

The wondrous music persisted.

"Oh, for god's sake, SHERLOCK!"

_Screeech_.

"Oh!. .Didn't see you there… Oh. It's one of his traits, isn't it?" the Doctor sighed, defeatedly.

John nodded slowly, a sign that his instincts were winning.

"The detector picked up something on a really _long_ stretch of wool yarn. I think you might want to check it out."

The Consulting detective found himself studying the yarn that wrapped around a corner and down another corridor.

"The signal seems to pick up if we follow it. Should we?"

The Doctor remembered that this was his old twenty foot scarf; a relic that he had taken apart when his newly regenerated self needed to go to the zero room to rest for a bit.

…_That's IT!_

"He's hiding in the zero room!" the Doctor blurted out, "its where time lords usually go to rest. It's also a perfect hiding spot. Follow that yarn, Doctor Watson!"

They followed the yarn if their lives depended on it. The Doctor's _did_ depend on it, really. He quietly thanked his 5th regeneration for the easy trail of yarn.

* * *

"…How long was this scarf?"

"About twenty feet. I know, I had a weird fashion sense four hundred years ago."

"You still have a weird fashion sense."

The tattered remains of the scarf abruptly ended, leaving the two at their destination.

"So, here it is… The Zero room. It looks almost untouched from the last time I was here."

The white doors of the hexagon room slowly opened, revealing a tormented scene.

Sherlock was suspended in the air, looking at the walls which displayed a picture that the Doctor didn't want to ever see again.

That picture was the golden and scarlet world of Gallifrey.

"I… I can save them."


	15. Chapter 15

"I….I can save them."

Sherlock stared into the cosmos with an expression that could only be matched by the Doctor before this entire mess happened. It seemed so natural. For a split second in time, the Doctor felt that he was okay with letting this continue, that he could fulfill Sherlock's shoes and let him take his place. He quickly pushed that absurd thought to the side. He wasn't going to let his inner instincts to win.

"Sherlock?"  
No response.

"…Doctor?"

The Timelord slowly turned, realizing his guests have arrived.

"Oh! Hello Sherlock! I assume you brought the Swichstones? If we can get this done really quickly we can fly off somewhere for a quick trip. I think we should go to Barcelona. They have dogs that don't have noses!"

The Doctor put on Sherlock's leather gloves. The feeling felt so normal and comforting, as it felt practiced to perfection. As he rummaged through his backpack, Sherlock began to speak.

"I don't know why you had to recharge the stones. I mean, we are just going to throw them on the ground and watch them shatter along with any chances of us changing back…"

_Oh no._

"Sherlock?"

"Call me the Doctor from now on, okay?"

"Sherlock, are you still in there somewhere? Is there any part of you that remains? Or is there just an empty husk about to be discarded along with whatever part of you that you decided to kill off?"

"I don't see why I have to change back. I hated my old self. I'm happier now than I ever was. I'm the Doctor now, you can't change that."

"That's because you never had feelings before, you _idiot._ Now SWITCH BACK."

"You know, I wish I could. I wish I could stay around in London and solve unsolvable crimes, but there's just _so much out there!_ Besides," Sherlock continued, pointing at the golden planet with two suns, "I can see _them_."

"You really have no clue, don't you? You think the universe is all big and wonderful but the truth is it hides terrible secrets and over half of it wants you dead." The Doctor hissed. His vents were getting vile, and every time he ranted he always had the upper leg. He liked winning arguments.

"At least I'm not _alone_. I have the TARDIS and my friends and the whole of time and the universe to explore. You have your stuffy little flat and cases and nicotine to keep you entertained."

The Doctor was speechless.

John was lost in thought.

And so the Doctor did something he would probably regret; although he had long since deleted 'regret' from his brain.

"I'll make you a bet."

"Hm?"

* * *

"Doctor, what are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious, John? I'm betting my life."

"I-I don't really think that's the best of ideas…" John stammered, "Since that matches his old personality. He's completely gone now. I don't want you to lose yourself either."

"John, this is the only way I can get my body back. If I give him the stone otherwise he'll just shatter it into a million pieces. I'm going to use his newfound weaknesses against him. I'll win. Watch me."

"You're just doing this to feed _his _impulses." John stated. "What if you lose? Then what?"

"Then I deal with the consequences. Simple. You won't even know it's the Doctor controlling Sherlock's body after a while, anyway."

"You... You can't just do that!"

The Doctor gave a wry smile. "Trust me, I'm… Sherlock."


	16. Chapter 16

"_Picture a heap of sand. If you assume that taking away a single grain of sand __does not__ turn it into a non-heap, and you continue taking away grains of sand one by one, at what point is it considered a non-heap? Is a single grain a heap? When did it change from a heap to a non heap?_

-Sorites Paradox

* * *

"The bet goes like this."

Ever fiber of his being was working against him. It freely ran though his veins and burned at the center of his soul. The Doctor wasn't going to give up. Not like Sherlock did. Perhaps it wasn't him that was being so persistent, but instead Sherlock's inner self. There wasn't enough time to ponder that thought. It ended here.

"It's simple. I show you our past, and if you fully accept it, I'll let you go. Snap, however, and I win. I show you whatever I like from the past. Do you understand and accept the terms?"

"Yes. Whatever to rightfully claim my body. We can begin now if you want."

"Right. Sexy, lock him in place. If he tries to close his eyes during this project the images in his bran."

A click echoed throughout the Zero room, and Sherlock was now stuck in mid air. A small rush of panic ran through the Timelord's body. He didn't know what to expect.

"Dear, would you kindly show him all the enemies that we've faced?"

Pictures flashed and danced across the wall, creating a story that should have never been told. _Hundreds _of aliens and robots, either taking over distant planets, or earth, appeared. Some killed innocents for fun; some took people and removed all the feelings from them. Death was a common trait in all of these aliens, and there was a seldom a period of time where there was peace between the species.

Just for a fraction of a second, a flicker of cold-heartedness appeared in those hazel, impossible eyes. A spark of hope in this otherwise bleak predicament proved that somewhere, deep inside, Sherlock was idol, ready to be re-awakened.

"Show him my companions, and their fates. "

More pictures appeared on the walls… Past friends and companions and assistants showed their faces, burning the images into Sherlock's brain. Some of them were dropped back on earth, some of them left on their preference. Some of his friends, however, Ended up dead, or gone. The TARDIS lingered on some of them a bit longer, like the one with pretty blonde hair who probably wore _way_ too much mascara. Different states of panic crossed Sherlock's face as each one passed his eyes, knowing that being the Doctor he had gotten some of them killed.

"Finish him off. Show him the last great time war."

A final video appeared on the white wall, clips of Galifrey, the planet that had resurfaced in Sherlock's memories. He knew it was extremely beautiful, with the twin suns going around the gold and red planet.

What he didn't expect was there to be so much blood.

* * *

There was death everywhere.

He was in a war, and he lost. Everybody lost.

His people were slaughtered, His planet burned along with many others.

He wondered how the Doctor lived after that.

Sherlock watched as the bloody, bitter war raged on and on for what seemed like eternity. Eventually, the Doctor put his people and the Daleks, an evil race of robots bent on killing everything (they did a pretty good job too.), into something called a time lock, which just looped time in that area forever. He couldn't visit his planet that burnt up to a crisp. He couldn't talk to other timelords using his mind, as they were all gone. He was alone. He was utterly alone, drifting the universe and saving anything the Daleks didn't touch.

And he was lonely.

John had been in a war before.

He'd seen death, but nothing on THIS scale.

It seemed the planet was blood red for a reason.

He was speechless.

* * *

"…You can stop the tape now. Please."

The tape halted, and the room went back to the bright white.

"I'm …. I'm crying?"

The TARDIS loosened its grip, and Sherlock reached up to confirm that he was actually conveying emotions. Nothing affected him like that. Nothing. He slowly deviated toward the ground, head hanging low. He was almost ashamed of having emotions, he wasn't used to them. He hated them. The Doctor was forcing him to shun his emotions to match something like his old self.

It worked.

Looking straight into his icy blue eyes, He muttered his last words with his light, comforting voice.

"My…My name is Sherlock Holmes. And I'm afraid. Afraid of what I've become. Take it away."

He held out his hand, and the Doctor placed the colorful stone in his grasp.

The room was so quiet you could hear the sizzle of the burn impression. His thoughts slowed down gradually, as it felt all of time came to a halt.

The last thought the drowsy Doctor gave off was "..._I win."_

* * *

**A/N: WHOOOOOOo! Thank you all for supporting! Tomorrow I will post the epilogue and fix any grammar/spelling errors and add in a couple things I forgot to. Thank you all for your wonderful support, and I am probably going to make a sequel later! :D**


	17. Epilogue

**One week later…**

The flat, which was now a hubbub of excitement, contained Watson and homes dashing about, getting ready to go to a high class party. Mycroft had instructed them to intercept some files about the government. Sometimes Sherlock felt that he bent over backwards for his brother.

"John, where is my bow tie?" the Detective pondered, turning over every book and ripping the place apart in the frantic search.

"I don't know Sherlock, you have plenty of regular ties in your closet, could you just wear one of those and _not_ tear apart the place?"

"Not going to happen. Besides, normal ties are dull."

"You are impossible to work with."

Sherlock gave off a wide grin as he overturned one of his experiments and found his necktie prize. Within a minute, he proudly wore his found treasure.

"Ready, John?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. I hate tuxedos…"

"Well then, let's get this over with. Come along John!"

* * *

The night was highly successful, as Sherlock managed to not only retrieve the files, but managed to point out everyone who was wearing a rental tux and who wasn't. As he was about to plop down on his bed, He noticed a disc resting neatly on his pillow. A 10 digit number was scribed in blue marker on it.

"_Possibly a phone number…. Oh. It's __his__ handwriting."_

He slyly made his way over to John's laptop, where he put the disc in, to watch the magic happen.

A video appeared on the screen, and the familiar alien's face appeared.

"_Hello, Sherlock!_

_At this point, our personalities should have completely reverted. Unfortunately, because of the severity of the switch, small personality traits of me might permanently remain. Sorry! Nothing major, I assure you. Anyway, as a small test to see if your deduction skills are perfectly fine, I put the TARDIS's phone number onto the disc which this is on. You're a troubled soul, Sherlock. You are always completely and fully forgiven. Remember that. If you need anything at all, I want you to call. Just don't cry bad wolf. I'm pretty sure you are smart enough to figure that one out. Also, because I don't need my number to fall into the wrong hands, this disc is going to self destruct when it's over; it's probably going to kill whatever computer you put this into… Once again, sorry! I'll probably leave some money somewhere to cover the damages. Until I'm needed again, this is goodbye. Laterz!"_

Sherlock smiled. That number was going into a good spot in his mind attic.

…John's laptop started spewing out a noxious smoke. Great. He was going to have to explain this to him later. Although, with everything that happened last week, this would be easy to explain.

* * *

**A/N: …And that's a wrap! This was incredibly fun to do, and I like how it turned out. I could work on dialogue and characters a bit more next time, but I feel that I did the plot and foreshadowing really well. Until next time, **

**-Samjez**


End file.
